everyone wants a home and needs to feel wanted

a short factly fiction tale, a monologue, written by Stephen, but its NOT him speaking…

………..

‘Isn’t she lovely…isn’t she wonderful, isn’t she precious’…… 

“Stevie Wonder, really got it right…. I feel good.” 

[Stevie Wonder’s ‘isn’t she lovely’ is playing in the background. Our own Stephen is out looking for something, but what?]

“It’s so crowded here and a bit too bright for my liking. It seems very orderly but I reckon that we’re held in a bit too tightly. How am I supposed to get noticed in the midst of all this? How can anyone see me, let alone pick me?

Here, what about me? Hello, Hello……, yes, me! Look here!

What’s your problem? I’m beautiful – obviously, bright – yes, I could just about be a star… reach for me!”

‘Isn’t she lovely, made from love….life and love are the same’, 

“yes Stevie, take it away. 

Hang on, Who’s this? He looks well meaning, clearly got purpose, we could make it work.

What is he doing? He’s got it completely wrong. No, not her, put her down, what about me? Come on get a grip.

I’m yours for the taking.

Hang on a minute, I’m getting attention from him. Yes, that’s it, pick me up, look me over, no no , you’re tickling. Oh no, now he’s putting me back. What an idiot!

Hey, he’s coming back, let’s look extra special, maybe if I send positive waves, he’ll appreciate my OBVIOUS charms. Yes, He’s looking my way again, picked me up, stroking me, yes, yes, you’re getting it. Now he’s talking to the nice lady, getting out his wallet, yes we’ve got a RESULT…. wonders never cease.

He hands a card over, payment is made, I’m nicely prepared and we’re off. 

Yipeeeeeee.

This is sooooooo exciting.”

‘I can’t believe what God has done’, 

“back to Stevie Wonder, this is so my song.

I’m with the guy who picked me and I really think I’m about to meet my life’s purpose.

But now I wonder, what will it really be like? I don’t really know this character, can he be trusted? Where does he live? He’s white skinned is that good or bad? Calm down. Peace man. Give him a chance. Less of the anxiety. It’ll be OK, remember those positive waves.

Hang on. there’s another man with him who I hadn’t noticed. I can just about make him out. He looks like Father Christmas, big white beard and belly. Now this is a bit weird. Does that mean, you know, that they’re together? an item? Oh no, that’s not my idea of bliss. I’m not judging others, you’ll understand, it’s each to their own but if I’m moving into their place I need to know the set up. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m modern, I’m fresh, I’m new, I know that gay marriages, partnerships, people living together without getting married are all the rage but I just need time to adjust. 

It’s not what I’d expected. I’d wanted a more traditional thing, I ooze tradition, obviously. OK, OK, Don’t prejudge, let’s calm down and see.

So, where are we now. Back home, I expect. It looks big, difficult to tell as I’m so small. There’s plenty of space, loads of plants, we could make this work even if its not what I expected when I was brought into this world.

Hang on. What do I see, through a crack? There is a woman, Now as Stevie Wonder says I’m lovely but hey this woman is something else, she’s absolutely beautiful. A gorgeous tasty chocolate colour, unlike the pasty white guy. The other guy I now realise, was just a friend. Pheeeew…

‘Isn’t she lovely…isn’t she wonderful, isn’t she precious’  Stevie Wonder, I imagine, would sing and now there’s two of us!’

I get it now. The first guy who picked me up, and bought me and the woman are clearly together, there is a soft warm vibe that I feel. I’ve always been complemented, by the others, of being ‘in tune’ and understanding the humans.

Yes its happening, he doesn’t hang around. Non of this waiting for the best time, he’s straight at it.

‘Manjula’… he says, then I can’t quite catch the rest…. blah blah blah….get on with it man. blah blah… Wow what a smile she’s got, I’ve got a full view of her now. Now she really is a star. I could get to like her. What did she say? I didn’t quite catch it.

She’s acting very shy, coy even, which is probably not surprising in the circumstances.  

So what was that I heard? 

Yes! 

Spot on, wonderful that’s made my day…  no, my year, my whole life… I hope this means happily ever after. 

…. she’s beaming at me and him, I suppose, and let light into the whole room, Ok I admit, probably accentuated by the fact that my box is now fully open. Whatever, its love all around, I’ve come to a wonderful home. Yeeeeees!

She takes me out of the box, Strokes me. She’s radiant, I really really love this, and her, I’m going to be so happy.

He slips me on her finger. She had said yes, I’m over the moon.

This is absolutely wonderful. I have my very own family.

Life settles down to a sort of normality, a routine. I’ve been her engagement ring now for over two years. I’ve travelled to England (where he is from), been photographed so many times, shown to what seems to be absolutely everyone, mainly foreigners admittedly. I’m not always on her finger, only on special occasions and when she has on her ‘sunday best.’ But it’s then I’m at my best. We were made for each other.

Otherwise I’m placed back in the box or wrapped in a tissue, and tucked away in a warm place in her bra, under her mattress, in the midst of her many many saris or bedside drawer. 

Since that very first day it’s been an absolute joy. This is a very happy house with many people from Mysore and around and from all over the world (whatever that is) constantly coming and going and I’ve even got used to the big black dog.

I had expected a companion, yes a wedding ring but it seems like its not their thing. There was however the crowning glory and yes, eventually TWO YEARS LATER they did get married (twice), so we all had our day of celebrating their love.

Manjula was at her most beautiful, whether at the registry office, in the field, on the Tonga, by the river or for lunch hotel, she beamed like a constant smiling beacon, a lighthouse lighting the way for us all.”

Epilogue

“So what’s happening today? It’s almost four years since their engagement and over a year since they married.  Everything is out of sorts. Manjula’s husband who I now realise is called Stephen or maybe Stevie, but he’s not a wonder! As you will soon see.

Manjula left the house yesterday in the Ambassador car with Stephen her driver. She left me at home so I thought it was maybe one of her regular trips to a clinic or hospital. Its unusual as she’s pretty much been been here constantly for most of the last year and she hasn’t taken me!

So what’s he doing now? Stephen has come back on his own. Well he’s clearly sad and his eyes are wet.

I’m wrapped in tissue paper, I think I’m under the mattress, which he’s lifted.

Hey! I’m here, be careful! Stop whatever you’re doing. Woooooooaah I’m sent flying through the air, roll along the floor and come to rest in the corner of the room. 

The mattress followed by the cot, the bed itself are taken out of the room and outside, what is going on?

Whatever, I’m in the corner of the room and he has no idea that I’m here.

Hey You? Steeeephen,  your klutz.. I’m here. Here in the dark in the corner, under something. Come and pick me up. Please.

I give up. It’s been hours or maybe days I have no way of telling. How will he ever find me?

Hang on someone is coming. It’s not him, Stephen the careless. It’s a woman, not my Manjula.

Here, look this way!

She is scanning and has eagle eyes, finds me, picks me up, I’m up up and away… and puts me in a warm place.

Whatever next?”

Factly Note

My friend Brian, from the UK, and I bought Manjula’s engagement ring at a jewellers in Mysore. On that very day I asked Manjula to marry me. Thankfully she said yes. That was four years ago. We’d been together in one way and another for nine years until she died earlier this year. On the day she died, as part of the Hindu rituals, she was brought home and laid on her bed, that I’d placed outside the house for people to visit, show their love and do the necessary pooja.     

I have no idea if rings can appreciate whats happening to them.

The ring is now lost. I have no idea what happened to it. Maybe it was tucked away under the mattress and I lost it when I lifted the mattress then someone else found it, maybe it was taken in the chaos of that day when people were in and out of our house, I just don’t know. It’s not important now.

I’ll be posting ‘creative’ fiction and Manjula’s own actual story, a memoir, over the next few months on http://www.meandmycycle.com

Stephen

Mysore, July 2019

stephen.Farrell@flourish.co.uk